


Idolatry

by Kitsu



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Barely any dialogue, Blasphemy, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have no idea, Just Playing With Words, M/M, Purple Prose, Why Did I Write This?, and suddenly i ship it, i guess, sort of sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 03:03:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: Gods were only gods as long as they were worshipped.
Relationships: Reno/Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	Idolatry

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I can't sleep. Oh well, work in 3 hours. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The Turks were all street rats, originally. Street rats that had been retrained, broken down and remodelled into perfect spies and assassins. Tools for the Shinra Company, able to play any role to perfection.

Except Reno. Reno was in every way untrainable, unbreakable - but his skills had been honed, sharpened, warped into something useful, a living natural disaster. A weapon.

He was still a rat though, loud, brash, brazen.

A rat that didn't know its place. 

So when they told him a rat could never compete with a God, could never stand side by side with one as equals, he took it as a personal insult - and a challenge. 

Gods were only gods as long as they were worshipped.

Throwing himself into every battle with a burning passion, never ever doing anything half-hearted, be it death or destruction, he soon caught the eyes of a so-called God. The God of War, the pale silver reaper. 

Sephiroth.

Often called in to act as a pilot for the SOLDIER, Reno was never one to let the Gods have all the fun for themselves. A spy, an assassin, he also needed to stretch his legs once in a while, and so he'd throw himself into the battles alongside the warrior, dancing his own dance of destruction, a red flurry of crackling electricity with a gleeful, wicked smile. 

He saw the look in Sephiroth's eyes then, noticed his gaze linger a fraction too long after those battles. Saw him appreciate. But it wasn't enough, not for Reno. 

So he repeated himself, always faster, always more destructive, always higher on the scent of blood and the adrenaline rushing through his veins, eyes bright and shiny. Body vibrating with deadly potential. 

Until the God himself broke, until he could no longer keep his hands to himself, the other's ragged breathing, sweaty skin and bright eyes post-fighting far too reminiscent of another type of battle. Another type of death. 

Until Sephiroth physically picked Reno up after a fight, tossed him over his shoulder and carried him to the nearest inn. His look was enough for the innkeeper to hand him a key and usher him to a room on the third floor. 

Reno, all nervous energy within Sephiroth's embrace, all potential, never a word. Not until Sephiroth dropped him on the bed, on his back - and clambered on top of him. Straddling Reno's hips, Sephiroth leaned close, face to face. "Want me," he spoke. Though a statement, there was a question inherent. 

"Like the night wants the light of the moon."

If Sephiroth was the moon, Reno, in his eyes, were something far greater than the night. He was forged from molten metal, an avatar of wildfires, lightning, volcanoes. The fearful lights that distorted the darkness of night, wrought fear in the hearts of mortal men - and fire in the hearts of gods. 

With that Sephiroth's hands, his mouth, his all, worshiped the lithe form that was Reno. Tasted, teased, tormented. Revered and venerated.

And Reno repaid his God of War with dirty words and dirtier deeds. Irreverent prayers offered in quick succession - begging, craving. His every spoken wish fulfilled, until he was exactly so. Exhausted, silenced. Stilled to an ember. 

"My deadly one, my fire," Sephiroth whispered in adoration as they fell asleep - a God worshipping at the altar of a street rat.

-

Then fell the Gods, showing themselves to be devils. Dark, demonic souls undeserving of worship, twisted idols, a place by their side nothing to strive for.

Yet, Reno sometimes found himself staring at the night sky, missing the light of his moon. The nights were darker - colder - without it. 


End file.
